How to Seduce an Angel in 10 Days

by Saranna Dewylde

  And Ethelred stood over her, watching her drown.

  Just as the pressure in her chest splintered, Ethelred hauled her up out of the water and carried her to shore. She spluttered and coughed, not caring if the water she’d started to swallow sprayed over his broad shoulders.

  “You’re a bastard,” she wheezed.

  He laid her down in the sand with a cocky grin, his demon magick healing her. “I know. Now you do, too.”

  “What was the point of that? Besides to terrify me?” If there’d been anything within reach, she would have thrown it at him.

  “You did exactly what I told you to do.”

  “You’re my fucking parole officer.”

  “I am. Now, why did you do what I told you to do, even though your gut told you not to?”

  “Because you told me to!” she cried. What a stupid fucking question. How was she supposed to learn anything with a demon who used circular reasoning?

  “You don’t understand. Maybe it’s too complex a comparison.”

  “I’m not stupid,” she growled.

  “Well, that could be argued given your recent choices.” He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but be warmed by it, as much as that pissed her off. “No, Drusilla,” Ethelred said kindly, “you’re not stupid. So it’s beyond me why you let the men in your life dictate your actions and your happiness.”

  Tally didn’t speak.

  “You knew exactly when Martin Vargill began to deviate from the path and yet you followed him. Why?”

  “I thought he loved me.” Tally didn’t like saying that out loud. She knew it in her own head, but the sound of it was pathetic and it disgusted her.

  “How could he love you, Tally?” the demon asked, his voice still kind and soft, but his words like razor blades.

  “Yeah. We all know I’m not that witch, okay? I’m not the one who gets the white knight and Happily Ever After. I’ve always known that’s not me.” Tally hated how brittle her voice sounded. How vulnerable.

  “Why have you always known that? Did someone tell you?”

  “Are you my parole officer or my fucking therapist?” she snapped.

  “I’m whatever I need to be. Answer the question,” Ethelred prompted in a stern, but not unkind voice.

  “No, no one told me. I know from experience.”

  “Again, I ask why you’d think anyone would love you?”

  “Fuck you.” She flailed at him, her open palm flying through the air with one stinging slap with his name on it, but he caught her wrist easily.

  “No one will ever love you, sweetheart. Not until you learn to love yourself.”

  Tears threatened and Tally would have rather gone back under the water than let the demon see her cry.

  He pulled her against him and hugged her. “There, there, darling. Time for that later. We have to move on to part two of today’s lesson.”

  “How does this help your cause?” She tried not to sniff.

  “That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out. Although, I like that you’re looking for the angle. Everyone has one, you know. No matter what they tell you.” He straightened, suddenly dressed in a perfectly tailored, white pinstriped suit—Al Capone Chic. “Now, we’re going to Piccadilly. I am in need of tea.”

  “So you almost drown me, rip me to shreds, and make me cry and you want me to go with you to buy tea?” Her voice cracked.

  “Now, now. Watch that inner bitch kitty. Settle down. And why not tea? A good pot will fix you right up. Come along.” He held out his arm and her swimsuit morphed into a long, white summer dress reminiscent of the Victorian era.

  There was nothing for it but to go where he led—previous lesson aside. He teleported them to Piccadilly Square in England.

  “Is Cupid going to be a good lay, do you think?” Ethelred asked as he took her hand and placed it on his arm like the most proper gentleman in days of yore, a hard contrast to what was coming out of his mouth. “I mean, when it finally happens?”

  “Why? Uriel cut you off?” Tally raised a brow.

  “Call me curious.” Ethelred smiled.

  “Of course, he will be,” Tally said.

  “You hesitated,” he said lightly as he led her into The Fountain Tea Room Café. Then he switched subjects. “You should pick up a tea box for the Angel of Death.”

  Tally’s head spun at how fast he switched between topics. It kept her constantly off balance and she was sure it was by Infernal design.

  “Yes, I suppose,” Tally agreed. She still wasn’t sure how you told a man you were sorry for feeding him to the Abyss, but wasn’t it the thought that counted? He’d gotten a good job out of it and really, before this whole mess he’d been aimless, content to be worshipped by witches everywhere as an ex-war hero.

  Okay. She had to be honest with herself. It wasn’t just feeding him to the Abyss. She’d known what the creature inside her was going to do to him and she hadn’t been strong enough to stop it. Tally hadn’t been willing to fight the pain that came when the lamia didn’t get her way.

  “Hmm, or not. Let’s get back to the dish at hand. Cupid. Why did you hesitate?”

  “I didn’t hesitate. I simply wanted to know why it concerns you.”

  “I spoke with Falcon this morning and I was interested to see what he thought about the matter.”

  Tally knew what Ethelred was doing. He was trying to screw with her self-confidence and manipulate her. He kept tearing her down, only to give her the tools to build herself up again. Rinse and repeat. Like a kid who stomped on anthills. She wasn’t going to respond. As if Falcon would ever talk to Ethelred about what had happened between them. Hell, the cheeky bastard had probably been watching from the bathroom mirror. Nope, it wasn’t going to work.

  He flashed her a mischievous grin that would have been more at home on a kid who’d won a shopping spree in his favorite toy store.

  Why was he so happy?

  So you’ll ask him why he’s happy, dumbass. Then he would proceed to pick and tear at every little thing Falcon had said. She wasn’t going to play an emotional game of Chutes and Ladders. They were all Chutes that led straight to Hell, literally.

  Ethelred proceeded to order for her. He’d chosen a cherry tart and Lady Grey tea. She wondered if he was alluding to something. Tally had to stop analyzing him to death; it was what he wanted her to do because his end goal was to make her crazy.

  “What about Uriel?” she asked as they chose a table.

  “What about him, doll?”

  Tally decided he was evil. He was so casual about everything; nothing ever moved him to any sort of emotion except boredom or amusement. He was a total sociopath. Too bad everything he said was colored with sensuality. It was in the way he moved, the way he spoke, even the way the bastard sipped his tea.

  “He stole Gabriel’s horn to blow up my end table, so I have to know, is he good at blowing your horn?” Tally tossed his own devil-may-care aplomb back at him.

  Ethelred’s cheeks ballooned out as he fought to keep his tea from shooting out of his mouth like the spray from a fire hose. He gulped and spluttered, his gold-flecked eyes watering with the effort. He dabbed his napkin at his mouth surreptitiously.

  “Oh, my. I may have to rethink my strategy with you, my dear girl.”

  “Tit for tat, darling.” Tally smiled as she took a dainty bite of her tart.

  “I really want you to fail, Drusilla.” He said this with an ominous pleasure. “We’d have so much fun in eternity.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “I know. What was it Martin Vargill did to earn your allegiance, hmm? Oh, yes, he told you that you were pretty. He made you feel special. I could make you feel very special, Drusilla.”

  Tally didn’t want to admit how sharp his little arrows were, but she knew she’d have to face her own actions if she wanted to be worthy of her Second Chance.

  “Yes, that’s what he did. He treated me with respect, at first. Then he made me believe no one else would
want me after he was finished. He was mostly right, but only because I let him be right.”

  Ethelred smiled at her. “Do you think Falcon is going to be any different? It’s your fault he’s Cupid, you know. He was battling with the lamia, or ‘the great and terrible evil’ as you’ve come to call her, and was knocked from his broom. He was choking to death on his own blood when Merlin found him. Your fault,” he said cheerfully.

  Tally was horrified at the imagery of what she’d allowed to happen. How could she have thought she deserved a Second Chance? So many people had been hurt, so many had died because of her weakness, her selfishness.

  Self-loathing was a fountain that had frozen in the winter of her redemption, but as she was faced with the truth, it melted into a raging sea that drowned all hope.

  “Yes, there it is, my Drusilla,” Ethelred said as he petted her hair the way he would a choleric child. “Taste it. Let it fill you until you can’t breathe, until it chokes you.”

  She knew he only wanted to break her, but his strength lay in righteousness. The truth was a sword and Ethelred was a ruthless opponent.

  “You’re a raging cock, you know that?” she choked out. “It’s our first date and already you’re trying to get me to move in with you in Hell. I’ve been known to be fast, but so far, I’m completely unimpressed.”

  She took a bite of her cherry tart as if he hadn’t just ripped out her heart.

  He raised a brow and finished his tea.

  “You’re not special because you can whip out the horns and a tail,” Tally drawled as if he were her harmless next-door neighbor instead of a demon who could summon raging hellfire and a thirty-two-ounce Big Gulp of whoop ass.

  “I could drill you with my tail,” Ethelred said conversationally. “I think that’s pretty damn special.”

  “Boring. You’re not that hot.” She patted his hand with a dismissive gesture that was enough to insult his manhood.

  The entire room burst into flames, the fire crawling up the walls and draping like deadly, living ivy over everything in its path. She heard the screaming and the terror of the tormented souls who grabbed for her as the walls melted.

  “Hot enough for you?” he growled.

  “Temper, temper, Ethelred,” Tally admonished casually, even though he’d scared the sweet living Goddess out of her. “You can toss the slings and arrows, but I have to bow and scrape? I’ve held evil in my body even your boss doesn’t want to deal with. Stop fucking with me.”

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Oh, this is the Tally I like. Much better. Perhaps you learned something today after all?”

  “Look what you did to my pastry!” She had no idea how she was going to survive another day with him, let alone the entirety of her parole. “Can I have another one to go?”

  “Do you think your hips can take it?” he asked this as if it were a serious question.

  Tally gasped.

  “You seem determined to make me the gay best friend. I’m simply obliging.” He shrugged.

  Tally looked down at her curves. “With friends like you . . .” She let the sentence hang.

  “Actually, maybe we should order you two. I’ve been looking into Cupid’s past and he seems to like witches with a little more here.” Ethelred motioned to his backside. “Junk in the trunk, girlfriend.” He shook his head as if Tally’s rump were a shame on all rumps.

  “I hate you.”

  “Because I’m beautiful?” He tossed his head.

  Tally groaned. “Because you’re an ass cookie.”

  “Ass cookie, huh? I don’t know if I’ve heard that one before. At least it was creative. You know, for a female, you say ‘ass’ an awful lot.”

  “For a demon, you seem pretty concerned about my language use.”

  “Demon doesn’t have to mean ill-mannered. You’ve got a mouth that could blister the ears off an entire outlaw biker gang.”

  “Thank you.” Tally smirked.

  “I don’t suppose it would matter to you if I said it wasn’t a compliment?” Ethelred made a sound as if he were the most put-upon creature in creation to be saddled with such a female.

  She grinned, pleased to finally move him to something, even if it was only mild irritation.

  “I thought not.” Ethelred shook his head. “Anyway, my dear girl, we’re going to the Appalachian mountains next. I have business with a cursed gypsy prince.”

  “I thought you said he was a werewolf?”

  “I did. That’s why we’re going.”

  “Okay, let’s discuss this logic. There is a werewolf in the mountains. Therefore, we should be somewhere like Jamaica. They can’t swim, can they?”

  “Doggy paddle.” Ethelred deadpanned.

  “That was bad.” Tally made a face to emphasize how bad.

  “I know, but you liked it.”

  “I didn’t. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere near the mountains. Werewolves are scary bastards. I don’t . . . how do you say in your little Briticism . . . fancy meeting one.”

  “He’s the gypsy prince,” Ethelred reiterated, as if that should allay all of her fears.

  “It would figure,” Tally huffed. “Look, can you get laid on your own time?” She really didn’t want to meet this thing. She’d just watched The Howling and she had to say if she went her whole life and never got to experience that brand of suck, she’d be good with it.

  “I’m trying to save his life and keep the curse from infecting his sister. And before you get any silly girlish ideas, I’m still a very bad man.”

  “Oh, of that, I have no doubt. Which is why there is no way in Godiva that you’ll catch my ass anywhere near your gypsy prince.”

  “You said ass again,” he sighed. “Choose your flavor. Me or Falcon.”

  “Falcon. Definitely Falcon,” Tally said, pleased with herself.

  “He’s going, too,” Ethelred informed her gleefully. “So you might as well go with me.”

  “Okay, let’s look at this logically again. You aren’t going to have time to take care of me. And with a werewolf around, I won’t lie—I want to be taken care of. You’re going to be too busy trying to get horns and tail deep in the wrong end of a werewolf. I don’t want any part of that.”

  “I suppose I can see where you’re coming from, but what makes you think Falcon will have any time for you?” Ethelred asked the question lightly, but they both knew it was sharper than a dagger.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Shall Not and the Bigger Boss

  Falcon had left the house early that morning to talk to the Bigger Boss. When he’d heard Ethelred running his suck in the bathroom after “the incident,” he knew something had to be done. This attraction between Falcon and Tally was to the Infernal’s advantage and it had tilted the playing field.

  He’d found Merlin lounging on the Riviera, looking suspiciously like Dionysus—the Greek god associated with the grape harvest, who was also the embodiment of excess. There was a harem of women around him, all dressed in gold and silks, some stroking his hair, his feet, others feeding him delicacies of this or that, and all cooing over him like some favored pet.

  Yeah, Falcon guessed it was hard to be the boss. He rolled his eyes.

  “Where’s your charge?” Merlin asked before opening his mouth to allow one of the women to feed him a grape.

  “At home. Sleeping. Or hiding.” Yeah, she was probably hiding. He knew she’d been embarrassed by what happened. Falcon had tried to reassure her that it really wasn’t a big deal, but Tally had been mortified.

  Merlin looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm. No. She’s taking tea with Ethelred.” He chewed some more. “In England.”

  “What?” It wasn’t even Ethelred’s day, although why Falcon expected anything different was beyond him.

  “Snooze, you lose, I suppose. You’re really not doing a very good job,” Merlin drawled.

  “I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You did?” Merlin seemed pl
eased. “I’ll have you reassigned right away.”

  Reassigned? Not a chance in Hell. “Eh, no,” he began, trying to keep his tone diplomatic.

  “No?” He took a drink. “Interesting.”

  Falcon didn’t care for the way he said “interesting.” As if it wasn’t interesting at all and what he really wanted to do was call Falcon a bastard. “I want Tally to succeed.”

  “Really? Could have fooled me. And Ethelred. And her.”

  “And Tally? Did she request a new parole officer?” Falcon demanded.

  Merlin ignored him, still eating grapes and cheese and sipping wine.

  “Well, did she?” he prompted.

  “No, but don’t you really think that would be best for her?”

  “No, I don’t think that would be best for her,” he said, mocking Merlin’s tone. Rage washed over him at the thought of another warlock, angel, or demon being anywhere near Tally.

  “Boy!” Merlin’s voice boomed through the air like thunder. “Do you forget whom you address?” He was no longer sprawled among the women, but nose to nose with Falcon.

  Falcon was unmoved. “No. Did you?”

  “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that,” Merlin acknowledged. “So what is it you want from me?”

  “I want you to repeal the Shall Not.”

  “I find it disconcerting that rather than have your charge assigned to another parole officer, you want the rules to change for you. Rules are rules, Cupid.”

  “When rules are wrong, they need to change.”

  “Why is it wrong? Because you want her?”

  “It’s wrong because it gives the Infernal an unfair advantage. The attraction was between us before I was Cupid, even before the lamia possessed her. It’s not right to punish her for that.” Or me, he added silently.

  “So it’s all for her, is it?” Merlin sneered.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Good, because then it would be a lie. Lying is also a Shall Not, if you forgot.”

  “I admit I want her.” He shrugged. “But she wants me, too. Who better for her to be with now than Cupid? I won’t let anyone else hurt her.”